


Montage

by jvo_taiski



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Children, Ficlet, Future Fic, Gen, Loss, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:09:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28657008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jvo_taiski/pseuds/jvo_taiski
Summary: Soda is dead-- died in Vietnam. That's what is says in Evie's neat print. And Sandy doesn't know what to feel about a dead boy she'd never have spoken to again, or her own past choices.
Relationships: Evie/Steve Randle (mentioned), Sodapop Curtis/Sandy (past)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Montage

**Author's Note:**

> imagine finding out your ex-boyfriend's just died years after you break up

It comes in an innocent white envelope, with Evie’s neat print on the outside as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. It even smells normal, faintly of the post office, of stamps and paper and ink—less crisp than the official letters about bills and stuff that make it to her doorstep sometimes, and maybe Sandy’s imagining it but occasionally, when Evie sends her letters, she also catches a whiff of Tulsa lingering on the paper.

This one is no different, bringing out smells of dust, gasoline, and buttered popcorn for just a second. The paper is slightly crumpled to the touch, because for some reason Evie’s never been able to fold a letter properly—but she’s always stuck her stamp perfectly in the corner, so neat she might as well have used a set square.

It’s all normal but Sandy knows something’s wrong the moment she reads the first line.

_Dearest Sandy._

Not Sandy darling, not simply _dear._

_Dearest Sandy,_

_I know you remember Sodapop, maybe still think of him sometimes. He was deployed a few months ago, and he didn’t make it._

_Sorry this letter was so short, dear, but I really don’t think I can write much more; my head’s a mess. Steve’s real down. He’s not doing too good. We both know that there’s only one thing stopping him getting on a boat and getting himself killed._

_Hope you’re doing well all the same. Give my love to Becky, tell her that Auntie Evie misses her and remind her that she’ll have a cousin soon!_

_All my love,_

_Evie xx_

It doesn’t come with Evie’s usual _tell me you’ll come down to Tulsa soon; I’ve been dying to see you!_ It’s normally there without fail, despite the fact that she hasn’t taken up the offer once. She used to be so scared that they’d take one look at Becky and _know_. Sandy puts the letter down with trembling fingers and sits down heavily, thinking of Soda for the first time in years.

She’s moved on. She hasn’t _thought_ about him properly, not for so long, but his smiling face flits into her head, still perfectly formed after all this time. He’s a wraith in her mind, a toothy grin and a reckless laugh, blinding in his joy and crippling in his sorrow—and that’s just it, now. That’s all he is anymore—a perfectly formed collection of moments in her distant dreams, a memory of a face, a gentle touch. A feeling. A reminder of wild, reckless days that slipped through her fingers too fast.

Sandy shuts her eyes and old memories of a gentle hand in hers and a wide-open earnest gaze resurface, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve and the way she felt like she could see his soul through those warm brown eyes. Yes, there are other feelings that mingle with it, like regret, tough and gritty, and like all-enveloping guilt but mostly it’s wind rushing in her face, warmth in her core and the smell of chocolate and gasoline.

There were nights when he’d take her to the movies and they play back in her mind like little freeze-frames of moments. The way her hand, white and delicate, looked between Soda’s slim gold fingers, how they felt when they were tight in hers, solid and strong. They’re delicate memories, fluid and stilted at the same time, a start-stop like an old video recording where the sound is tinny and wavers but rings loud and clear. She considers the way she suddenly misses those same fingers tangling through her hair, or gripping her waist when they flew through throngs of sweaty bodies and thumping music, sweet punch on her tongue and a laugh escaping from his lips. They were invincible together, immortal in their youth, reckless and infinite, free.

She smells burning tyres and dust again, thinks she’s hallucinating. There’s a lump in her throat, and she opens her eyes slowly, feeling the hot prick of tears that she won’t shed. It’s not quite grief, no. It’s just one of those jarring reminders of her own mortality.

There’s a montage playing in her head. If she could, she would record it and make it permanent, tangible, but she can only live with the memories that will continue to lip through her fingers. She never thought to save them at the time.

Years ago, Sandy would go out with Soda in the Curtis’ souped-up Ford and wind down all the windows, crank the radio up. Shout along with Elvis as they ate up miles of highway, wind rushing through her fingers and hair and bringing almost-painful sharpness to her eyes. Not thinking, only existing. She can’t really comprehend how he’s just. Gone.

Two dumb kids without a care. Reckless, but with strong bodies able to take whatever was thrown at them, blood pumping, bones solid, muscles working under smooth skin. Falling apart together but still carrying a piece of her, even when she walked away. Sandy wonders how the hell this ghost-boy, the one that exists as a wild kid in her head forever, wonders how the hell all those hopes and dreams and memories have been erased by something so stupid, as purely physical as a war he never wanted to fight.

It’s kind of funny, the way she cares. He’d never have meant anything to her again; she’d never have held on to him like it was their last night on Earth. She didn’t love him like he loved her but little ache in her chest remains the same.

Would he still be here if she’d married him like she was supposed to? Life with Sodapop, never dull, but never quite enough. She was drunk when they did it unprotected and drunker still when she made her decision but she can only regret so much when her daughter tugs on her skirt and demands a cup of juice.

“Ma’s getting it for you, honey. Why don’t you go find nana?”

Honey’s what he called her; it’s part of her now and those small quirks he left in her character are all he is to her anymore. But in the end, Sandy’s just a puzzle too, a montage of memories and feelings and the little things that people left her along the way.

If Sandy had stayed, he’d have called their daughter _honey_ too. One day she’ll grow old enough to ask who her daddy is and Sandy hasn’t planned an answer yet.

_A montage. A hundred memories. Part of me and part of you._

She slips the letter back into the envelope and the tremor in her hands is small enough to ignore. It’s done; it’s gone. In a way, it was over the moment she looked beyond Tulsa and towards something new. She can’t change anything but she just wishes she’d kept the last piece of him that could have formed part of her—an unopened letter. His last words to her, forever unknown, and maybe a final confirmation that _daddy loved you very much._

Nana hobbles in with Becky in tow and she accepts the glass of juice with a toothy grin. Sandy lets her climb onto her lap and gives her hair a playful tug.

“You wanna go meet Aunt Evie and your new baby cousin?”

After all, life is too short to let good things go and she’s got her daddy’s smile.

**Author's Note:**

> so uh, Sandy's a bitch ass liar. also, how tf would she have known that the kid wasn't sodapop's? did they just... never fuck? did she not to use protection when she slept around? why'd she cheat anyway? there's ample backstory material there lmao
> 
> anyways. i never studied the outsiders so if somebody can tell me the significance of her leaving in the book that would be much appreciated. unless hinton just needed a random excuse to make soda sad and highlight his selfless nature blah blah or just to rub it in that life's not fair
> 
> feedback always appreciated, and kudos :)
> 
> tumblr @jvo-taiski but as of yet it's empty


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